


Take Your Time

by Red_Admirable



Series: Of Time, and Other Mysteries [2]
Category: Kanata Kara | From Far Away
Genre: F/M, Multi, cannon expansion, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9997730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Admirable/pseuds/Red_Admirable
Summary: "Sooner or later they will take their place in society, leading quiet lives, and finally finding some peace for themselves as true citizens of this world."For Izark and Noriko, sooner turns into later, and peace is never just found--it must be built and maintained.Originally published 12/13/2007 on FFN.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Much as I love them, I do not own Izark or Noriko. All of the characters, place names, and other aspects of the manga Kanata Kara/ From Far Away are the intellectual property of author and artist Kyoko Hikawa. However, I've added a few of my own original characters to the mix. If you can't find a name in the books, I probably made it up (this means I have either given a name to Hikawa-san's nameless character or I've created a completely new one).
> 
> Author's Note: A much appreciated reviewer on FFN was kind enough to let me know that the time setting of the introduction was not clear. I had meant that to be a reverse chronological (last event first) thing, but I think this en medias (mid- plot) opening works better...  
> That was several years ago now, and I'm not convinced an en medias prologue works nearly as well as I used to think...If you have a better idea for the prologue of this piece, please shoot me a note.
> 
> Thanks to BlueTrillium on FFN for looking over this latest version; it really helps.

_Winter, Fifth Year of the Awakened Age_

She held the reins as they rode up the dirt track. His hands were wrapped around hers, not to help control the horse—Tabiia was an obliging animal—but for the sake of contact. So great was his need for comfort that, had they been less visible, Noriko thought that Izark might have held her.

Nothing happened, really. There were the usual inquisitive glances, the double takes elicited by an attractive young couple. There were also longer looks, flashes of vague recognition, uneasy whispers, and furtive glances. Izark's palms were icy with apprehension.

Still, the hostler at the boarding stable did not deny them a stall. Nor did the innkeeper reject their request for a room. That elderly man, a lifelong resident of Anyitht, was one of those whose eyes narrowed when he saw the swordsman, as if trying to recall why that stoic, handsome face should be so familiar.

"Name, please, sir, and I need you to leave your sword. Any other weapons as well," the landlord said mechanically, still stealing glances at the young man from under his lashes.

Noriko felt the surge of tension that Izark did his best to mask--and his _best_ was formidable indeed. The warrior set his blade on the bar and met the old man's gaze. There was a hard edge to his voice when he replied.

"Izark Kia Tarj," he pronounced firmly, eyes black with defiance.

The innkeeper froze, his ruddy face blanching under thin whiskers.

_Uh-oh,_ Noriko thought. This didn't look like a good beginning. Not wholly unexpected, but not good either. _Izark?_ She thought at him. He did not respond. Concentrating, she sought for one of the many gateways between her mind and his, only to find that one and all were firmly closed. _This_ frightened her. Gently, she rested a hand on her young man's arm, a comforting gesture, and a restraining one.

Izark went perfectly still, then slowly turned his stare away from the now thoroughly unnerved innkeeper. The young woman looked back at him with a pained smile. His face softened.

"I'm sorry," the warrior apologized, carefully pushing the sword hilt first across the counter. It was not clear whom he addressed––he had growled at the old man, but his eyes were on his companion. "Please rent us a room. We have come a long way, and would like to rest."

The warrior's tone was level and sincere, causing the proprietor to relax a little. Hesitantly, he took up the weapon and turned around to unlock the cupboard in which it would be stored. "It has been many years since you left Anyitht, Master Izark," he said with his back turned, using a respectful term of address, but a _very_ neutral tone.

"Ten years."

"…Begging your pardon, but I believe it is eleven."

"No, ten. I heard about—the house." Those last words came out hoarse.

Surprised, the old man was silent as he lifted a key from where it hung on the inside of the cupboard door. Turning back, he placed the key on the counter rather than hand it to his new guests. "Second floor, fifth door to the right."

"Thank you," Izark responded just as tonelessly as he exchanged coins for key.

"Thank you." Noriko sounded like a friendlier, female echo of her companion.

Perhaps it was her slight accent—or perhaps he was so disconcerted by the reappearance of Tarj and Kia's 'young monster' that he had forgotten her—but the innkeeper started when she spoke. Izark felt a certain wry humor at the series of expressions which passed over the landlord's face: recognition of Noriko's existence, realization of her proximity to Izark, shock at the hand still touching the warrior's shoulder, and speculation as to all the possible relationships implied by such closeness. Cautiously, the old man gave a half bow.

"And your name," he inquired slowly, trying and failing to place exactly who she was, "Mistress?"

"Tachiki Noriko," she replied with a smile, letting her hand down to press against Izark's and feeling his swordsman's calluses as his fingers immediately laced with hers. "Noriko."

"I am Erdon Jetta Marmadu," was the only polite response to be given, so the innkeeper gave it. The uneasiness in the old man's face was now joined by an agony of curiosity as he looked between them.

Unfortunately for Erdon, Izark was not in the mood to reveal personal details, and with a curt nod ended the conversation. The innkeeper was left to wonder as he watched the pair make their way down the hall. _Guardian and ward? No, that is only ever a pretense. Perhaps she is his slave? But slaves do not speak unless bidden. Still, she can't have a choice but to follow him. Or perhaps she did choose, because she does not know_ _what he really is_ _. He is very handsome, after all, and it is not so uncommon for naive girls to be led astray by handsome rogues. I must speak to my brother and see what he thinks…_

I

Noriko let the door to 'second floor, fifth door to the right' swing closed behind her. Izark had already dropped the saddlebags and was sitting slumped on the edge of the nearer bed, looking wilted. Setting her satchel by the door, the young woman walked over and sat down beside him.

_Izark._

He looked up, finally. "This place hasn't changed much," he muttered bitterly, absently putting an arm around her.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "It does seem a little backward." _Or backwoods,_ she thought privately. "But that's not what you mean. Do all the public houses in this country lock up guests' weapons?"

"Most," Izark confirmed. "Tazasina has always had trouble with bandits, even more than Zago. You could say that raids are an annual rite here, or they were when I was young. It makes the people who live in isolated places suspicious and careful." He sighed. "Not that I mind; it's actually a good practice, but it's not much use if the owner asks someone to hand over their sword if that someone turns around and stabs him, or her. Noriko, this—" the young man twisted to pull her close and murmured, "I've made a mistake, bringing you here."

She smiled sadly into his shirt as she wrapped her arms around his chest. "Not a mistake. A lost cause isn't the same as a mistake. But this isn't a lost cause. Not yet."

The warrior drew back just enough to face her, cupping her chin so that she looked him in the eyes. They were the dull, washed-out gray of an overcast sky, the color of defeat. "They will never accept me. They will not accept you. And they certainly will not accept our child." His words fell like stones, and it grieved her that he believed them.

"You don't know that. Izark–"

"Didn't you feel it? They are full of fear. They think I'm a demon, and they think you're a fool for being with me. I could stand it—if we lived out in the forest; never came to town—but you..." His hand left her chin as he shook his head, dejected. "I know you. You need other people; other friends to talk to at least once in a while."

"Three months. Just three months, and if things don't get better then we'll go. Izark, it isn't _your_ fault they think that. The Source of Evil is gone now. I can prove I'm not a fool, just as you can prove you're not a monster." _Please don't give up!_ "We have to try." He was looking away. She bit her lip, searching for a good argument. "We need to stop traveling soon anyway…" _This place has haunted him. He'll never be able to move on if we don't at least try._

She had not intended him to hear that thought, but she knew he must have when his eyes widened. Slowly, Izark turned his gaze back to her face, a world of pain in his own. Softly, he told her, "If I agree to that, then we might as well plan for a year." _In three months it will be dangerous for you to ride._ "And if we can't convince them? What then?"

"Then we'll leave. We'll return to Zago, or to the Kilahb. But Izark, _we have to try._ " This time, he did not look away, and he saw her eyes brighten with hope as she smiled. "Besides, I want to see the place you talked about, the one you thought we could have."

"What?" He smiled for the first time that day, but warned, "I said, we _might_ be able to have it. I don't even know if it can be made livable. It wasn't when I found it, and that was a long time ago." He paused, thinking. "But—very well. _If_ you like the place, and _if_ it can be saved, then we will stay the year. You're right," he whispered, embracing her once more. "I have a duty here, and I must fulfill it."


	2. Westward Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the real beginning, I swear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Once upon a time, BlueTrillium beta-read this chapter for me. It then spent around two months languishing in my Documents folder after I promptly forgot to upload it. Oops ('^_^,).
> 
> Anyway, thanks to BlueTrillium on FFN.

_Autumn, Fourth Year of the Awakened Age_

It was about four years since the Awakening had come to this world in the form of a seventeen-year-old girl. A ship swayed gently as it cut through the brisk water, propelled by a stiff wind on its course from Mouzk to Guzena. Now a young woman, Tachiki Noriko stood on the bow, legs braced as she watched the setting sun. It drifted slowly down to touch the horizon, setting the water ablaze with glimmers: some rose, some vermilion, some violet. When she had first fallen into this version of reality, she had clung to the fact that the sun still rose and set everyday––albeit in a west-east passage rather than an east-west one––and that _most_ of the laws of physics with which she was familiar still applied. Westerly situation notwithstanding, the sunrise that morning had reminded her of the times when her family had taken summer vacations to the Pacific Ocean. There was a reason Japan was called "the Land of the Rising Sun."

_Noriko._

His consciousness brushed her drifting mind even as Noriko recognized Izark's characteristic quiet approach. She turned and beamed up at him. Her expression was infectious, and the serious young man couldn't help but smile warmly in return.

At twenty-three, the warrior stood a few inches over six feet (183 cm), head and shoulders taller than Noriko's definitive five-two (155 cm). To her family Noriko had described Izark as Eurasian. In the world she came from his jet black hair, high cheekbones, and the way his deep-set eyes slanted under angled brows would have suggested oriental heritage. His straight nose and defined jaw could have come from anywhere, while the cast of his skin––tanned from a summer chasing around the Western Continent on horseback––was entirely European.

His proportions were almost unnatural in their perfection.

In short, Izark Kia Tarj had the kind of looks that would meet the standards of beauty for every human ethnicity under the suns. As if this were not enough, his eyes refused to be classified. One minute they were so black that they seemed to absorb the light; the next they could be midnight blue, or tornado green, or stormy gray; it all depended on his mood and whether or not his feelings could be hidden. At the moment they were a profound azure, a color that Noriko had seen more and more frequently over the past three years.

After wrapping the shawl he had brought carefully around the young woman's shoulders, Izark added his arm and asked, "What were you thinking?"

Noriko continued to smile as she attempted to retrace webs of gossamer thought. "I'm not sure." Finally catching a thread, she looked back at the sun, now quite low. "Have I told you that Japan is sometimes called the Land of the Rising Sun? Before the Americas were discovered, people in Europe, Africa and Asia believed that the Earth was flat, and that the Japanese Islands were closest to the place where they thought the sun rose every day because they were the farthest east. Our oldest legends say that the great gods of the sea and sky created the Islands, and that the Islands became the kingdom of their daughter, the sun goddess Amaterasu, and her children after her. Of course, all that was disproved by modern science."

"I think the scholars of _this_ world would pay to hear half of what you know about 'modern science'," the warrior chuckled. Noriko's explanation of mirages had made no sense to Izark until he had tried making one, something he was uniquely capable of doing. She had spoken with complete confidence as she informed Dr. Clairgeeta that the world she was born to traveled around its Sun, and that this caused the seasons. The learned man had listened in awe as she explained that the Earth also spun on an axis running through the core perpendicular to the equator, causing day and night as different parts of the globe were exposed to the Sun's light. Furthermore, the Moon of her world was about a quarter of the size of the Earth, which it circled in the same way the Earth circled the Sun. The Sun and the Moon looked about the same size; but that was because the Sun was enormous and very, very far away whereas the moon was, by comparison, very close. Noriko maintained that since day, night, seasons, and moon phases occurred in this world as well, she figured it worked the same here. When Clairgeeta had inquired where Noriko had learned all this (was his head reeling as Izark's had been?), the young woman had had to think before answering, _"Where I come from, anyone with a good elementary education learns the basics."_

The implications of Noriko's thoughts hit him like an avalanche, suffocating his amusement and freezing his heart. _She misses her family; her world,_ he realized. _Has she begun to regret staying? With me?_ If that was true, then Izark desperately needed to convince her that he appreciated her presence– that he _needed_ her. It had been over a year since they were in the Sea of Trees, the place where she had literally fallen into his life as his Awakening. Since then, they had traveled all over the Eastern Continent, accompanying Dr. Clairgeeta and his entourage. Now they were returning to Selena Guzena on the Western Continent after receiving a message that a gathering of their allies was to take place at the home of Zena Il Pisca and her sister, Gaya. They would be less than two months' hard travel away from the Sea of Trees. Would Noriko finally do as he dreaded she would, and ask to be sent home? If she did ask––there was no way he could deny her request, but…

His arm tightened, almost imperceptibly, around her shoulders.

_Almost_ imperceptibly. Noriko felt it, as well as the sudden unease of his mind. Turning yet again, the young woman peered into Izark's face, searching for the cause of his distress.

_Izark?_ she queried silently.

The young man hesitated, then drew his beloved into a true embrace. He had to explain. It was absolutely necessary that she understand, and fully, what he was feeling. Bending his head, he pressed his lips lightly to hers and made his voiceless plea. Thoughts are more complex than words, involving more kinds of emotion and imagery than speech can express. Thus, this narrative is a poor translation.

_I love you. I will do anything in my power and knowledge for the sake of your happiness. If you must leave, I will send you. But don't ask me to be happy. Please don't ask me to be happy, because I don't know how to_ be _happy without_ you _._

_Izark!_ Her response was a scolding, like one given to a forgetful child. A memory flashed between them, and Izark had the most peculiar sensation of looking up into his own astonished face, but the words he heard were the same as Noriko's that day some three years ago. _"No! Of course, I want to go home. I want to see my family. But… I couldn't stand being separated from you. I want to stay with you, Izark. I want to be with you forever."_

Relief flooded him. She did understand.

This exchange took place in a manner of seconds, as thoughts do. Its transience, however, did not guarantee their complete privacy. When they parted, Noriko discovered that Wei was leaning against the mast and watching the pair of them with great interest. Noticing the young woman's blush, Izark turned to face in the direction of her gaze and glared, his own face coloring. Wei was one of the few people capable of sneaking up on the swordsman––he'd spent countless hours over the last year getting the knack of it.

"When Katarina mentioned that it was getting cold," Wei informed Izark, a wicked grin playing across his delicate features, "you left before she could finish. It's almost dinnertime, and she was going to suggest that you tell Noriko. She had me hunt you both down." With that, the slight man turned and bounded to a stairwell leading below deck. "Move it," he called over his shoulder. "Dr. Clairgeeta will insist that we wait for you, and table service is slow as it is. Personally, I'm starving."

"He didn't have to look so amused," Izark grumbled as he escorted Noriko to the narrow stair.

Noriko giggled. She knew that Izark's comment was only meant to cover his embarrassment at having walked out before Katarina had finished speaking. She also knew that he would be subjected to much teasing for being 'overprotective', though considering their situation when they met the term wasn't really pertinent. His somewhat parental attitude was simply an integral part of their relationship.

As they descended the short flight of steps, the young woman that was the Awakening sent the man that was the Sky Demon one more thought, a combination of memory and new concept.

_"I will stay with you…for all my life…" Especially… "If you want me to."_

II II II II II

_They make an odd family,_ Noriko decided over supper that night.

Danjel, the grandfather, was a veteran warrior of the former Gray Bird Tribe and a walking contradiction. He was practical, yet––as a white-haired eighty-nine-year-old who routinely climbed houses––extraordinary. He was traditional, yet surprisingly tolerant–of his grandson's eccentricities, for instance. In general, he treated both of his grandchildren as equals to himself, though on occasion he had used his authority with Wei. His face was lined and drawn with a wide flat nose, bushy brows, and a gentle expression; his back was beginning to stoop. Nevertheless, he was still the equal of nearly every swordsman he encountered.

Katarina, the elder sister, was pretty and plump, cheerful, prim, and kind (usually). With her cherubic face and soft, wavy blond hair, she had an air of innocence and docility that she used to full advantage when necessary—it was only skin deep. Noriko often found Katarina's words to be at odds with the attitude in which she voiced them. The female warrior treated threats of bodily harm with smiling nonchalance. Then again, it was common knowledge that accosting a woman of the Gray Bird Tribe could be damaging to one's health. At thirty, Katarina had proved the accuracy of that knowledge time after time, using pain to make the lesson stick.

Wei was Katarina's twenty-one-year-old brother, a mischievous young man who delighted in trying to rile Izark. He was short by the standards of his people, with slender shoulders and the build of a dancer; he reminded Noriko of nothing more than a young cheetah. His eyes– a dark brown that matched his elder sister's perfectly– were large with long, defined lashes, and his oval face was framed by tapering layers of fine white-blonde hair that emphasized the cheetah cub effect. If he wore a dress––and he frequently did––Wei could not easily be recognized as a male. Quite on the contrary, most people assumed that he was a very attractive female. Despite his looks and his (normally) mild temperament, he was a deadly martial artist with an affinity for sharp objects. He was also a bottomless pit.

"Are you quite finished, Brother Dear?" Katarina asked in a poisonously sweet voice as Wei polished off a third plateful. She only called him "Brother" or, more particularly, "Dear" when she was teasing. That, or raging.

"Nearly." Wei dabbed his mouth elegantly with his napkin. "There's still room for more, but… Yes, I will live." He said this with a straight face, though his eyes sparkled with mirth.

"We'll be at port by noon tomorrow," Lori son of Arikowa––formerly a peacekeeper of Stenny in the country of Aibisk, now a member of Dr. Clairgeeta's retinue––commented without batting an eye. Noriko had never asked his age, and he'd never volunteered it. Ever meticulous, Lori kept his thick, tight brown curls cropped to his shoulders and not a whit longer; he could make a travel-stained tunic look like a starched military uniform. He had no sense of humor, and was unlikely to ever acquire one.

"Port––as in land? Or at least wooden docks anchored in solid ground?" Dr. Clairgeeta only half joked. With a solid build common to northern Aibisk and a direct, clear-sighted gaze, the prematurely gray philosopher gave the impression of great vitality and athleticism. Vitality he had; athleticism he had not. One did not put Dr. Clairgeeta on a horse's back and expect him to not fall off––better to hire a carriage or, if none was to be found, to walk. Even the Lady Niana, wife of Grand Duke Jeida de Gilenee of Zago, was not so ungainly. It was quite plain that he detested all aspects of travel by sea, especially the close quarters and the constant challenge to his limited sense of balance.

Izark was fighting a losing battle as he attempted to smother his own laughter by pressing one fist over his mouth. He was partly successful: no sound escaped him, but his handsome face was flushed with the effort. When he caught Noriko's look of concern, he moved his hand just enough for her to see a brazen grin before hiding it from the others. She saw it, then immediately clapped her hands to her mouth in delighted surprise. Izark's smile would never cease to be a miracle. Not for Noriko.

II II II II II

"Wei, I absolutely forbid you to wear a dress," Danjel growled abruptly upon their entry into Selena Guzena, a month after their landing at Chugui Port on the coast of Guzena.

"Grandpa, I'm already wearing a dress," Wei said meekly, doing his best to sound reasonable. "Where do you expect me to change?"

"Find an abandoned alley for all I care, just do it! Shirt, leggings, belt, sandals, and _lose the lip paint_ **.** " The old man's usually mild tenor was strained. "I was able to justify certain of your behaviors while we were working underground against the Bonya clan. In civilized company, I expect you to dress as the man you are."

Wei heaved a dramatic sigh. "Well, if I must…" Suddenly his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Then Izark has to tie his hair back."

"Drop dead." Izark's voice was bored. Despite the odd rhythm of the dialogue, he hadn't missed a beat. Scenes like this had happened just inside the walls of every peaceful city their group had visited in the last year or so. Izark could understand Danjel's urgency. There was a big mess whenever people, particularly men and older boys, mistook Wei for a female. It caused an incredible display of Wei's fighting ability when said men and boys were of the bad sort. As a rule, the young tribesman could and would beat the snot out of anyone who acted on the presumption that his strength and temperament matched his looks. What Izark couldn't account for was what caused Wei to dress as he did––in drag. Traveling in the company of close acquaintances, Wei was quite comfortable in typical men's costume. Mention imminent contact with strangers, and he would immediately be digging in his bag for a high collared shift and cheap glass jewelry.

In any event, Izark wished Wei would stop bothering him about his hair. He saw no reason to change the hairstyle he had worn since childhood, and even less reason to oblige Wei's pointless demands. Besides, on the one occasion in which he had complied out of a desire to settle the matter, the shift had caused him a headache.

"Deal," Noriko's voice brought Izark out of his short reverie. She reached up to finger-comb his hair, skillfully pulling it into a low ponytail and securing it with one of the thin ties she had recently taken to wearing in her own waist length tresses. The feeling of her hands on his scalp gave the young man goose bumps, but he was collected enough to comprehend when she whispered, "Just till we reach Auntie's." When he turned around to look at her, Noriko correctly interpreted the _why?_ in his raised eyebrow. She grinned.

_He'll just change back as soon as we get there._

II II II II II

"Ah! There it is! Everyone, I found it!" Noriko, having grown up in a Japanese city of over one million, was well practiced at finding her way back to places she had visited, provided that her first trip took place during the day. As the group made their way down the wide lane which led to the Seer Zena's townhouse, Izark realized just how much he would appreciate seeing Gaya, Barago, Agol and Geena again. He expected that Grand Duke Jeida would be there with his family. Much as he would have liked to deny it, Izark would enjoy Alef's company, despite the man's coercive tendencies. Donya was further away than Zago, therefore he could only hope that Doros had been able to come. He doubted that Mardwoog, as mayor of Ennamarna, would have been allowed to set aside his duties long enough to make the journey. He even felt glad that he would soon be meeting Banadam again, though he had no intention whatsoever of giving the young guard even a moment alone with Noriko.

These pleasant thoughts were cut short as a small figure lurched to its feet from where it had been sitting on Zena's front step. There was a shriek.

" **Oneechan!"**

Had he been anyone else, Izark would not have had time to catch Noriko, who was nearly bowled over by the enthusiasm of the dark haired child's greeting. The little girl had her arms wrapped around Noriko's waist as she babbled joyfully, speaking so quickly that at first Izark could not absorb the fact that she was talking in another language entirely.

Noriko's head had snapped up at the Japanese honorific. Now her eyes widened as she stared down at the child's oriental features.

"Akane-chan!" Finally regaining the power of speech, Noriko switched languages without realizing it. "[Little cousin! Why––how––What are you doing here, Akane?]"

Nine-year-old Akane rattled something off, and Noriko looked up to stare at Izark. Izark stared back. That the little girl was from Noriko's world, and that she knew Noriko well…it was impossible… wasn't it?

Immediately he set the young woman back on her feet, gently but firmly prying her from the child's grip. His hand was in hers as they hurried forward to fling open the door, even as the sheer improbability of this miracle dragged at his mind.

_Could it be…?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This is the five-times edited version of Chapter 2. (Actually, I'm really digging AO3's posting format--I can go back as many times as I want to make corrections!) <3
> 
> ~Lanta


	3. Appearances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks to BlueTrillium, for taking the time to read this over.  
> Minor changes since I published this on FFN.

 

For once, Noriko beat Izark to it. Driven by the overriding need to confirm the significance of Akane's presence, the young woman fell ungracefully through the door when it opened without her having pushed it–– straight into the woman who had just dashed to admit their group. This person exclaimed once, then caught Noriko up in a tight hug. With her face half buried in shoulder length hair so like her own in color, Noriko whispered one word through happy tears.

" _Okaa-san_."

III III III III III III III III III 

Glocia de Gilenee, daughter of Grand Duke Jeida de Gilenee of Zago and his wife Niana de Marshans, had recently celebrated her twenty-first birthday. That evening after supper, she surveyed the gathering before her with great satisfaction.

She had hardly known what to think when, six months ago, a middle-aged woman had slipped past all the guards on her family's estate in Zago to speak with her father.

Alef was still smarting from the shame of it.

The lady had been very tall and thin, with a face that might once have been handsome, but never pretty. Pale hair, skin, and eyes made her more striking still; she should have been difficult to overlook. She gave her name only as Tara, and had refused all courtesies. With all possible frankness, the imposing woman had explained that she was a native of Noriko's birth-world, one with the talent and knowledge required for traveling between the planes. The question she put forth was simple: if she were to convey Noriko's family from her world to this one, would Jeida be willing to provide for them until they had been allowed to see Noriko?

Of course the Duke had agreed, at which point Tara had simply nodded and ––according to a very flustered Jeida–– vanished.

Two months later on the eve of the summer solstice, in the dead of night, Duke Jeida's guests (as the ordinary staff referred to them) had arrived. Glocia had not actually seen it happen. However, an hour before the group of strangely dressed visitors actually presented themselves at the manor gate, the young woman had had an episode the details of which she would not soon forget. Halfway through some tax records she was supposed to be reviewing, Glocia was overcome by the most surreal sense of otherness. She distinctly remembered smelling saltwater in the air, which should have been impossible in the landlocked Eego District; more than a thousand miles west of the Midland Sea.  
Not long after this strange experience, a wide-eyed maid had burst into the room to summon the young mistress to the entrance hall.

Tara had stood in the antechamber. Behind her was a group of five adults and one child. Excluding the pale lady, whose dress was closer to the local attire than it wasn't, all had worn some manner of brightly patterned robes (none of Jeida's family had ever seen yukata before) and wooden sandals. Behind the people stood a number of what appeared in the torchlight to be traveling trunks.

Tara had introduced Noriko's family to the nobles as if she were conducting a business transaction––which, Glocia realized, she probably was. Noriko's father was rawboned and black-haired, with high cheekbones that seemed to jut from either side of his face. The fact that his hair was pulled into a low horsetail accentuated the thinness of his features. There was crackling attention in his deep brown eyes and in the gull's wing shape of his eyebrows. Tachiki Daisuke had stood straight though not tall as he greeted Jeida and his family with a bow and a grin that shone with enthused gratitude. Now Glocia knew from whom Noriko had learned to sparkle.

The young noblewoman had done a double take upon seeing Tachiki Yuri. With exception to her fringe of bangs, Noriko was a taller, younger image of her mother. The older woman seemed to exude tranquility.

Yuri's father, Suou Jin, had impressed Glocia as being a kindly old man, but his presence was entirely overwhelmed by those of his descendants.

It was obvious from his similarities to Yuri that Tachiki Jinta was Noriko's brother. He was twenty-three and on a height with his father. Even more than his little sister, Jinta emulated Yuri's easygoing disposition. His agreeable personality had made him welcome in the society of Glocia's brothers, Banadam, and some of the other young men of the household.

Shimatoku Chiyako was Daisuke's younger sister, and therefore Jinta and Noriko's aunt. The Duke's daughter had judged her to be around thirty, but it was a little hard to tell. In all her life, Glocia had never met anyone quite like this woman. Noriko and Yuri were exotic and beautiful, but in a soft, gentle way. Chiyako was devastating. Her face, like her brother's, had sharper contours than those of her sister-in-law and niece, and her large, black-brown eyes were distinctly slanted under the hereditary arched brows. Unlike Daisuke, Chiya-san–– as she liked to be called–– let her mane of fly-away black hair hang loose around her shoulders unless she was doing something strenuous. Each gesture she made, every word she uttered brimmed with life and confidence. She was quick to laugh, quick to remark, quick of wit, and quick to help.

Akane was Chiyako's daughter; a bold, bright child of nine. Glocia supposed she had inherited her father's looks. With her moon-shaped face and cropped hair, she bore very little resemblance to her stunning mother in anything but personality. The little girl's eyes, though muddy brown, gave off such fierce curiosity as to make them glow. Glocia thought that the oddest thing about Chiyako's child was that pin-straight black hair. It was so _short–_ probably she shortest she had ever seen on anyone, male or female, that was older than an infant.

This precipitous arrival was followed by a mad scramble to organize some sort of reunion between Noriko, 2,000 miles away at the time; and her family, ensconced at Fief Gilenee in the Eego District of Zago. A month and a half of severe frustration had taught Akane to speak the common language of the Midland Sea quite fluently, and now she never stopped asking questions. Having been absorbed into the companionship of Rontarna and Koriki–– people his own age that were willing to teach him––Jinta was learning almost as quickly. Upon her arrival, Chiyako had established a place for herself helping the cooks, maids, and stable hands; however, as these people did not have much time to talk, began to speak more slowly. It was Yuri who––very sensibly it seemed to Glocia––attached herself to Niana, in whom she had a peer and a sufficiently loquacious teacher.

Of the six, Daisuke had had the most difficult time breaking down the language barrier. Though he would have found a good instructor in the Duke, Noriko's father must have sensed that Jeida had little time to mime and dictate and "explain" common nouns and verbs. And the Grand Duke really was very busy. Besides helping her mother manage the house, Glocia had done her best to relieve her father of at least part of the mountain of paperwork he received every day. Yuri had evidently noticed that her husband did not take part in conversations that included Midland. Glocia couldn't count the number of times she had overheard the woman carefully relaying all of the new words she had managed to decipher to Daisuke, pronouncing the word, then it's meaning in Japanese, then in the Midland again. He would then pronounce the word himself, sometimes incorrectly. After much repetition and piecework, and with much assistance from his patient wife, the man was gradually accumulating a reasonably well-stocked vocabulary. He used it primarily in the gathering of what seemed to be a history of his daughter's life in this world and all the factors contributing to the fulfillment of the prophecy of the Awakening.

The grandfather had no trouble whatsoever–– mainly because he didn't try. Ojii-san, as Jin had requested through Yuri he be called by anyone under fifty, learned four words: 'yes', 'no', 'please', and 'thank you', and declined to learn anymore, saying through his daughter that his memory was no longer what it used to be.

The road from Gilenee to Selena Guzena had not been nearly as eventful as some of Glocia's previous travels. They had arrived at Miss Zena's house only two days before Noriko's party.

Now, _finally_ , after four months of planning, arrangements being made (across countries, seas and _universes_ ) and travel (between countries, continents and _universes_ ) they were––for the most part–– all here in one place: Dr. Clairgeeta; Lori the guardsman, from Aibisk; the two sets of former Gray Bird Tribesmen (Gaya, Zena, and Banadam meeting Danjel, Katarina, and Wei); Miss Zena's assistants, Anita and Rottenina; Noriko; her family; and Izark. Duke Jeida had, after much deliberation and even more pleading (there aren't many truly disinterested people who are willing to take government posts), found someone suitable to act as his steward for the time necessary to travel to Guzena, catch up with friends, make some gestures of diplomacy, and get back to Zago. Naturally Niana, Rontarna, Koriki, and Glocia had all opted to accompany him and Noriko's family. Chief Commander Alef de Elazard had, in the politest language possible, demanded that he be allowed to accompany them. Glocia suspected that, had her father found any reason to order Alef to stay in Zago, they would have discovered him in the luggage two weeks down the road. Agol and Geena were expected to arrive with Barago in a few days. Sadly, Mardwoog was too busy in Ennamarna to justify making the trip, and Doros had preferred to stay with his animals. Still, the presence of the Noriko's family had certain conciliatory value.

Glocia had selected this particular bench as her seat for its excellent view of the living room. From here, she was able to watch as Noriko knelt on the floor with Chiyako, speaking in fast Japanese and gesturing animatedly as had become her habit while she was still learning the language. Yuri listened nearby, a quiet smile in the curve of her mouth. Seeing them side by side, Glocia realized that there were differences between Noriko and her mother after all: though both possessed dark auburn hair, the girl seemed to have inherited the finer texture of her much longer strands from her father. And there was something else––some subtle variation in expression that could completely differentiate otherwise identical faces. Glocia would decide later that it was the difference between the ageless beauty of experience and that of youthful vigor, that aforementioned 'sparkle'.

Not far from the Japanese women, Akane was showing Katarina the toss she had learned in her judo class about half a year ago, and paying careful attention as the Gray Bird demonstrated a particularly useful grip. The child had staunchly refused to wear anything remotely like a skirt; she had compromised with Niana by accepting the loose smocks and leggings typically worn by younger children. The black hair that had so shocked Glocia had grown out a bit, but not enough to seem normal.

Duke Jeida spoke seriously with Zena and two Guzena ministers a few steps to Glocia's left. Down the wall to her right, Tachiki Jinta sat in a semicircle with Rontarna, Banadam, and Niana. He was teaching them to play the instrument in his lap, which he called a guitar. Lori son of Arikowa, the guardsman from Aibisk, leaned against the back wall as he watched the lesson, looking as if he wanted to join, but wasn't quite brave enough.

Dr. Clairgeeta sat on the bench opposite to Glocia's position, conducting his own review and smiling at her when she met his eye. Beaming in return, she turned her attention to the chairs in the center of the room. Danjel and Ojii-san sat together, sharing without words some inside joke known exclusively to seniors. Then again, perhaps she did know what they were laughing at. Koriki, bless him, stood near the door. His companion was Anita. They were flirting.

Now _here_ was something interesting. At the tea table near the opposite wall, Rottenina was listening attentively, though with evident puzzlement, to Wei. _She was in the kitchen when they arrived,_ Glocia realized. Wei, risking his grandfather's displeasure, had donned a clean brown shift and his favorite earrings. _Everyone has described Wei as a man, and now Rottenina doesn't know what to make of him._ The problem was made worse by the fact that Wei did not seem to have put on his female persona along with his dress. Still, they seemed to be having a nice conversation.

But where was Alef? There, just to the right of Dr. Clairgeeta's bench, leaning against the opposite wall in his typical carefree attitude next to Izark. For once, the man Glocia had known since she was ten and he sixteen was silent, though companionably so. His reasons were obvious. Izark, instead of his usual composed expression, wore the rigid mask of someone who is distinctly uncomfortable and trying hard not to show it. _Why?_ When Alef looked up, Glocia caught his eye, and tilted her head to indicate Izark. He answered her with a look that was half smile and half grimace, then rolled his eyes to the spot diagonally across the room from himself. Glocia had to stand and peek around her father and his peers to see Daisuke speaking quietly with Gaya. Every few minutes, the Japanese man would glance at Izark.

The young woman couldn't help but giggle as she returned to her seat. Of course Izark was uncomfortable. He usually knew where people were looking, and hated being scrutinized himself. Glocia smiled at Alef, then turned her gaze back to the room at large.

Chiyako was talking now, with an expression of pure satisfaction as Noriko listened, her eyes serious. Glocia would have liked to speak with her friend, but thought she should have some time with her relatives first. _There is always tomorrow._

Danjel had finally remembered to check Wei's apparel, and sent him to change with a glare that might have frozen the tea at his grandson's elbow. Now he took the empty seat by Rottenina in order to explain the situation, as Wei apparently had not. _Her_ expression was, at this point, a perfect mixture of amusement and curiosity. Danjel was obviously surprised by the girl's composure. _Well,_ Glocia reflected, _I suppose many people react badly when they identify a transvestite._

"Glocia, you've been sitting over here without talking to anyone for quite long enough," Niana said in her daughter's ear, making her start. "Come and listen to Rontarna play. He's getting good at 'Violet Leaf'."

III III III III III

"I simply don't," Danjel declared between sips, "understand that boy. I don't think he _wants_ to be mistaken for a girl, yet whenever he meets new people, he insists on dressing like one." The old man shook his head, then looked back at his listener. "Forgive my grandson. Wei tends to confuse people, even when he doesn't mean to." With that the aging tribesman stood up and returned to his seat by Jin, taking his teacup with him.

Twenty-year-old Rottenina remained where she was, thinking about what had just taken place. Personally, the dark-haired girl didn't really care whether Wei was male or female, or how he chose to dress for strangers. He was polite, attentive, and engaging. He had a taste for situation comedy and a pleasant turn of phrase. When her foster sister, Anita, abandoned her to dally with Koriki, Rottenina had been happy to talk with another young woman. She _had_ been a bit confused––she had been told that Noriko and Katarina were the only women arriving today––but it didn't really signify that the amiable young woman turned out to be an amiable young man. _He's pretty too_ , she thought. _No matter how you look at him, he's pretty._

She was pouring another cup of tea when Wei returned, this time in a short black tunic trimmed with a border of white vines. _He has good taste,_ was Rottenina's thought as she handed him the cup, having realized that his old one must be cold by now. "You were saying something about how you didn't think Izark slept like most people." It had been an interesting subject, and Rottenina had been a bit irritated when Danjel interrupted.

"That's right." Wei smiled. He always appreciated tact, and was grateful when the girl chose to ignore what had just occurred. "When we were in Mouzk, someone managed to blow the supports out from under the dais Dr. Clairgeeta was speaking from. Well, Izark managed to get everyone on and around the thing out of the way except for himself. Anyone else would have been killed, but all he got was some cracked ribs, a set of very… _colorful_ bruises, and a need for rest. Still, he insisted that we leave that afternoon, to keep on schedule. Lori took the first watch when we camped that night, and it seemed strange to me for some reason. Then I realized that we had gotten into a routine where Izark always took the first watch. I also realized that I had never been on watch for more than an hour since he and Noriko joined us, and it was _always_ Izark who relieved me. When I asked Lori about it, he said that it was the same for him. Well, I had my first three-hour watch in months that night, and by that time I was wondering if Izark _ever_ slept. I don't always think straight after midnight. I shook him to see if he wasn't just faking. He'd really been asleep, for once, and he'd nearly strangled me by the time he was fully conscious." Wei paused for a drink, then continued, grinning. "Then Noriko came after me. With Grandfather's walking stick, if you can imagine."

The scene he spoke of sounded so comical that Rottenina nearly choked as she sipped her tea. It was difficult to picture Noriko driving anyone off with a stick, no matter what they had done to Izark.

They were silent for a time. Finally Wei said, more seriously, "I'd like to thank you for not mentioning what happened earlier. You're probably the first person I've met who didn't bring it up straight off. May I ask why?" He'd been looking into his cup, but met her eyes as he questioned her.

Rottenina shrugged. "I'm a seer," she said. "When I'm working, I see all kinds of people. Some women prefer to dress like men. Some men prefer to dress like women. I'm sure you have you're reasons, and though I don't know what they are, I'm sure they are good ones." Realizing what she was saying, the young woman blushed.

Wei grinned sheepishly into his tea. It was exactly the frank answer he had never expected to hear, and he was glad he had prompted it. "It's not that I like tricking people. I just got sick of them looking sideways at me. Either they can't choose between my face and my clothes, or they assume I'm a––well, either a tomboy or––or a wanton. It's less complicated when they have no reason to doubt my–– _femininity_." The bashful grin changed to a feline smile. "And if anyone tries to take advantage of _that_ … well, they get what they deserve."

"Ah." That was all Rottenina said for some time. Having lived with Gaya, Miss Zena's twin sister, she knew how much attention people paid to a fifty-six year old woman who wore the trappings of a swordsman, and that most of that attention was disapproving. She could imagine such condemnation multiplied three fold when applied to someone easily mistaken for an attractive young female. Finally, she asked, "Why haven't you told Danjel this?"

"He never asked."

"Neither did I."

"True. Then--perhaps you said the right things."

III III III III III

About the time Danjel had sent Wei to change, Tachiki Daisuke, in conversation with Gaya, remarked offhandedly that it was implied she had known Izark the longest of anyone present. Gaya chuckled, being fully aware of why Noriko's father might introduce that particular topic.

"It's true. I met Izark six years ago, when he signed on to the same caravan I was working for. I was a cook. When I realized he had talent and might need the skill, I offered to teach him swordsmanship." The swordswoman's grin widened as she said, "Actually, I had to use extortion to make him agree. I've never seen anyone so reluctant to take free lessons in defense. He finally accepted them when I gave him two options: he could either let me teach him to use a sword, or he could say farewell to peace and privacy." The grin faded, to be replaced by a thoughtful look. "He said he was afraid of hurting people even when he didn't mean to. I understand a little better, now that I know what he is." By now her expression was sober indeed. "It's sad, to think that Izark grew up believing himself to be the monster people said he would become."

Daisuke, watching the subject of their conversation, saw the young man's eyes flicker to them for an instant, then hurriedly away and back to where Noriko was now interrogating her aunt. When he spoke, his speech was slow and careful. "Is––good looking––not counting what else."

It was a safe comment. Still, Gaya burst out laughing.

"Everyone says that," she gasped finally, "except Izark." This time the mirth in her face didn't diminish. "And it always reminds me of going through northern Zago with the caravan." There was something about this polite, intelligent little man that spoke of inexhaustible vigor and inquisitiveness to match. It made Gaya want to tell him the stories she knew, despite her knowing the use he was, at that very moment, putting them to. She knew he would remember and value the things she related because he was a narrator himself. "The roads in the mountains of Zago are rough. We got stuck a few times, waiting for them to be mended or because the weather was too bad for travel. We stayed in towns when we could. When that happened, Izark did his best to disappear, but even his best wasn't enough. Sooner or later, the girls would congregate wherever he was, giggling and whispering. As you said, he's a handsome boy. None of us could help teasing him about it. Once I mentioned that some of the last bunch had been rather pretty. 'Looks have nothing to do with anything,' he said. Then he ran." Gaya was still smiling, but there was a trace of sorrow in the expression. "I can't decide if he was talking about the girls' looks or his own."

Still with his eyes on his daughter's significant other, Daisuke's arching brows arched higher. "[Interesting]" he mused. After a pause he asked, "But ––he always talk like old man? I no think Noriko put up with that," and started Gaya laughing again.

III III III III III

It was late before Chiyako was finished telling her niece of all that had occurred in the last four years. As everyone else went in search of their beds, Noriko went in search of Izark, who had finally had enough of leaning against the wall and sweating under Daisuke's assessing glances. She found him, as she had known she would, in the garden. His head was thrown back as he stared at the sky, resting all his weight on one leg. Together they stood silently in the starlight: the sable-haired warrior and the young woman with oriental eyes, watching the stars and listening to the wind as it rushed through the alley ways of Selena Guzena. Both knew there were light spirits up there, shining just as brightly as the 'real' celestial bodies they mimicked. There were spirits of darkness, too, in the black void separating bright spots. Some were lost forever, blind to the presence that the stars reflected. Others dragged themselves through the emptiness, taking the long, winding path out of the shadow dimension and into the world of harmony and light.

It was Noriko who finally broke the stillness. She reached up and, with one hand on his cheek, guided Izark's eyes down until they looked into hers. "How are you doing?"

The girl watched as the blank mask slid gradually away to reveal a strained smile. Izark's broad shoulders relaxed slightly; his eyes lost some of the opacity they acquired when their owner was being closed.

"It seems your aunt had much to tell you." He knew she didn't really expect an answer. Even when Chiyako had claimed most of her attention, Noriko had maintained her link with Izark. She was aware of his–– condition, whatever that might be called.

The young woman nodded, not taking her eyes from his face. "Chiya-san likes to talk. Alef was very quiet tonight."

"Unusually quiet, you mean." The last part of Izark's tension dissolved, and he gave a real smile, one of true and affectionate humor. "I think he was trying to give me emotional support. It makes one hope he might finally have given up the circus idea."

Noriko nodded again, thoughtfully. Her fingers remained on his temple as she said, "Otou-san can be a bit––" She paused. _Overwhelming_ wasn't the proper word. _Intense_ wasn't right, either. "Onii-chan––my brother, Jinta––asked me to apologize to you for him. Rontarna seems to have developed a fetish for the guitar, and Jinta got caught up in teaching him to pick out 'Violet Leaf'," she explained, naming the simple but popular folk tune inspired by the famed Trees of Morning Steam. "He said he'd like to talk to you tomorrow, if you had time." She gave him a critical look. "Izark, I know you have a hard time sleeping, but try and get some rest." _You'll need it. Social gatherings tire you out._

Before she turned to go, Izark took both of Noriko's hands in his and kissed her forehead. "I'm alright," he tried to assure her. Then, speaking just louder than necessary, he said, "I just don't like being watched."

As Noriko walked back to the house, the young man in the garden lifted his eyes to the second story window. Whoever had been there had heard him, and gotten the message. _Good_. He had intended them to.

Izark stood for a while longer, deep in thought. It was a fortunate thing, he concluded, that Zena had arranged for the men and women to sleep in separate rooms. Normally he shared a room with Noriko, and that was perfectly innocent, but Izark could see how doing so might make her family uncomfortable. There was a certain small technicality about their relationship which has thus far been neglected, and which had, apparently, slipped the minds of everyone accept Izark, Daisuke, and Yuri.

Izark and Noriko weren't married. She didn't seem to mark it. He hadn't wanted to tie her down, in case she changed her mind––though that was quickly changing, much to his chagrin––, or to impose upon the wishes of such obviously loving parents. It hadn't occurred to him that presenting one's self to possible in-laws (from another world, no less) might be a tricky business.

Izark and Noriko weren't married. Yet.

_At least,_ Izark admitted privately as he closed the back door, _that's what I keep telling myself._

III III III III III

On her way up to the attic room she would be sharing with Rottenina, Anita and Katarina, Noriko passed Yuri on the stairs. _What was Mama doing up here?_ she wondered as she continued to climb. _She's sharing Gaya's room with Chiya-san, Akane-chan, and Niana. Gaya's room is on the ground floor._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I wrote the beginning with Noriko saying 'Mama'. At first, I didn't think 'Okaa-san' suited Noriko's speaking style, which in the English version translates to teenage Valley girl speak until she switches languages--headcannon says that at that point, she ends up talking a lot like Izark--I'm on the fence concerning how much difference there is between 'male' and 'female' language in Midland (the name I've applied to Izark's language); maybe I'll figure that out as my Japanese improves and I figure out how Gaya and Glocia talk compared to the other guys and girls in the series. 'Mama' is acceptable in Modern Japanese--the dictionary translates it to 'mom', so informal 'mother' (I'm willing to bet this is an English transplant).  
> Then I actually went to Japan for a month and a half. While there, I bought all the Japanese volumes of Kanata Kara I could get my hands on, plus some of Hikawa-sensei's other series (With her work not being terribly well known and the sheer pace of the comic book industry, I'm a little frightened that her books will disappear).  
> Noriko calls her mother 'Okaa-san', her brother 'Onii-chan', her father 'Otou-san', and her grandfather 'Ojii-chan'. Though the English version botched this in the first volume by addressing her older brother as 'little bro', these terms of address remain consistent in the books I possess.
> 
> ~ Muse


	4. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. BlueTrillium beta-read this chapter, too. Thanks.

It was two bells past dawn when Jinta, having searched the house before thinking to consult Noriko, tracked Izark to the garden pavilion. He found the quiet warrior seated cross-legged on the floor therein with his eyes closed, his hands resting on his knees. His countenance was far more tranquil than Jinta had yet seen it. Not wanting to disturb such serenity, Noriko's brother began to retrace his steps, moving as silently as he was able.

"Noriko mentioned that you wished to discuss something with me."

Slightly disconcerted by the soft remark which was decidedly _not_ a question, Jinta spun to meet an intent gaze the color of––what? Too dark to be blue or green, or even brown, but definitely not the flat black of yesterday. "I didn't mean to interrupt," he apologized.

Izark shook his head. "It's all right. Sometimes I lose my clarity, my center. I can find it again if I stop, concentrate on one thing at a time," he said as he rocked to his feet and stood, head cocked to the side, taking stock of this person whom he knew only as Noriko's older brother. It was strange to look into a man's face and see the shades of his sweetheart, whose looks had been completely unique until now. Here was Noriko's yellow-tan complexion; her very brown eyes with their rounded inner corners sweeping into gentle outer points; the unusual fold of her eyelids. Even the nose was similar. Here was her fine brown hair right down to the way her bangs fell over her forehead, albeit much shorter than Noriko's was at present. Izark guessed that it had been even shorter four months ago; the longest layer barely brushed the young man's shoulders.

_I'm thinking about it wrong,_ the warrior realized. _Noriko looks like her brother, not the other way around. And they both got that from their parents._ He took a moment to process this thought, still watching this complete stranger whose face was so familiar.

Feeling as if he was under a microscope (and it didn't help that Izark had to look _down_ ), Jinta searched for a topic of discussion. "We call it 'meditation', in Japan."

He was surprised when the corner of Izark's mouth twitched. The quirky grimace spreading over the warrior's face was the first truly human expression Noriko's brother had seen there. Somehow, he hadn't thought the warrior's features could be bent into such an expression.

"I'll stop," Izark chuckled, raising one hand in a gesture of apology. "I should know better--Hate it when people size me up."

Recalling a stiff, reticent figure slumped against the wall the previous night––and that this figure had been the object of a prolonged examination on the part of his father––Jinta winced mentally in pity for the object _._ "Otou-san forgets that it's rude to stare."

"Hmmm…" _Does he, now._ Realizing that they might be off topic, Izark repeated his original comment. "You had something to discuss with me."

"Well," Jinta began, knowing full well that he had only wanted to evaluate his little sister's significant other. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."

Izark blinked. It was true. After the scene at the door yesterday, formal introductions had apparently been forgotten. "Then my name is Izark Kia Tarj," he said, using the traditional phrase, and held out a hand.

Grasping it firmly, Jinta replied in the same mode, "My name is Tachiki Jinta, Izark."

Izark nodded, releasing his grip. "So, do I pass inspection?"

Apprehended, Jinta grinned. "That depends, but I think the odds are in your favor."

"There you are!" Both Jinta and Izark looked toward the house at Banadam, who had just poked his head out the door. "Come inside, both of you, before Wei eats your share of the food!" So saying, the young guard withdrew to save his own breakfast.

"He means it, too," Izark said, rolling his eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen anything eat like Wei." As they entered the house, he corrected himself, betraying nothing but serious consideration. "Except for a swarm of six-eyed insects. Maybe." With that, Izark made his way to the dining room and a seat by Noriko, leaving Jinta to recover from a laughing fit.

IV IV IV IV IV

Breakfast was a simple affair styled after a typical morning meal in Zago. Shimatoku Akane did not care for the flat, fried cheese curds she had learned to call _lopark_. She did, however, appreciate the hot _amall_ grain and _tyre_ nut cereal commonly served with them. After eating the fried cheese as fast as she could, the little girl settled down to enjoy the sweet, steaming porridge as the adults around her talked of serious matters. Swinging her feet, Akane let the sounds wash over her. Each voice was different, with a unique personality behind it.

Lori son of Arikowa had an odd voice. As a guardsman in Aibisk, he had adopted a barking roar to deal with troublemakers, a category that too often included his own men. Perhaps that was what had ruined his speaking voice. Presently it was hoarse and uninflected, as if any change in timbre was slightly painful. She had been listening to the voice alone, but now Akane began to hear the words. He was speaking in Midland, the main language of this strange world, with all its soft consonants and slow, rolling vowels.

"To be honest," Lori was saying, "I was a little troubled on our way through the city by the number of people carrying swords. Most of them weren't soldiers, and I know there aren't any wars going on in Guzena. What is it, Gaya? Why do ordinary tradesmen feel they need to be armed?"

Gaya's big, mobile features bore a sober frown as she finished chewing. "It sounds as if you've already guessed, but we've had some trouble recently. Izark and Noriko will remember what a mess we had on our hands two years ago, trying to clean up the corrupt administration."

At this, Izark looked up from his plate. Akane sat forward a little. _He is the one Mommy called Noriko's special friend. What does he sound like?_

"Are the former ministers _still_ howling about that?" Izark said, quiet incredulity in every syllable. His voice was lighter than Akane expected it to be; deep, but soft. She had thought it might be rough and misused sounding, like Lori's. Rather, it seemed just…disused.

Zena looked at him unhappily. "Yes, but that's not the problem. The trouble is that some of those ministers' policies left behind some issues outside the government's range of direct influence, especially in the Willohamker Body."

"[Noriko, what's _willohamker_?]" Akane mouthed across the table. Izark saw her and smiled despite himself.

"[Executive]," Noriko mouthed back in Japanese. "[Police]."

"Selena Guzena has had problems with organized crime for a long time, but lately things have gotten much worse," Gaya continued, picking up where her sister left off. "Turns out that our officials were bribing the gang chiefs to play nice. Now that the officials have lost their salaries––"

"––And their control of the taxes," Glocia murmured.

Gaya nodded. "And their control of the taxes, the robber barons are making up for lost income. It's not happening all over the city, but constables in the Market and Cerise Districts have their hands full these days. Kidnappings have increased in the last year or so, and robberies are too common now to suggest coincidence. Beatings, murders, black market trafficking, you name it. The gangs that are doing it appear to be selective about recruiting, too…" The aging shield maiden trailed off, grim lines about her mouth.

"You mean peace keepers are getting hurt; killed," Alef said, thinking out loud, "and people are either reluctant to fill such dangerous positions, or they have conflicting loyalties."

"And of course you've had to rebuild all your--what is the word? Groups? after smashing the bad eggs," Chiyako commented, earning several surprised glances from those who were unfamiliar with her.

"But there _is_ someone managing it, isn't there? Don't you have someone competent in charge, who knows how to set things right, given resources and time?" Duke Jeida had a deep, resonant voice. Akane had often noticed how nice it was. It was strange to her that such a warm, honest voice could have been shouted down by combativeness and anger.

The cloud over Gaya's face dispersed a little. "You and your family, Jeida, and you, Alef, might know him. Have you heard of Jul Hirza Aevin?"

There was a collective exclamation from the Zago quarter.

"You mean Captain Jul of the Royal Guard?" Being the oldest, Rontarna had had the most to do with the family guards at the time.

"What, the guy who put fear into the pages when he caught them sneaking food?" That was Koriki, frowning in concentration.

Alef was laughing. "So, old Glakenrang's out of retirement, eh?" Catching Glocia's puzzled glance, he explained, "Remember the old man with a patch on his eye? No? You wanted to know why he always wore an _enrang_ on duty, no matter what, remember? Yes, him. He retired the year after I joined, but in the time I knew him, he had such a temper as to warrant a nickname among us young rascals."

Akane turned to Noriko, only to find the young woman's attention elsewhere.

Then something odd happened. Izark glanced over and smiled. As if on cue, Noriko turned to look at Izark, then followed his gaze across the table to the little girl staring at her expectantly. Without being asked, she whispered, "[Hammerhelm]."

"Jul!" Niana's saccharine voice cut across Akane's wonder at this incident. "Oh, how is he doing?"

"He's the new Guard Sergeant for Market district." Gaya continued. "How is he, you ask? As usual, I believe, and the only word I can think of to describe that is _cantankerous_ , but he's in his element. He's been with us for a month, and he's already transformed the bunch of clowns known as the Market Guard into something real. The only difficulty is that there just aren't enough people willing to risk their necks to deal with the current situation."

"But of course, Sergeant Jul is trying to fix that," Katarina said, her tone one of assumption.

It was Rottenina who answered the Gray Bird as she entered from the kitchen with Anita. "The Market Guard holds an athletic trial for applicants once every ten days at their district's station. ("Always was one for interviews, old Hammerhelm," Alef chuckled) In fact, there's one this afternoon. That's about all that they can do, though."

"But hold on," interjected Banadam, putting down his utensils and looking very seriously at Gaya. "If it's so well known that the guards are hiring, the thief lords must be aware that a larger peace-keeping force won't do them any good. And, if you ask me, an open trial doesn't sound like something a few tough punks couldn't sabotage."

"That's true," agreed Danjel. "At best, they might discourage real applicants. At worst, they might get a position and subvert operations. On the other hand, it could give this Sergeant Jul the opportunity to scope out criminals as well as hopefuls."

"Gaya." Izark's voice was very soft, yet everyone at the table looked his way, even Wei, who hadn't stopped eating since he sat down. "Has anything happened to applicants who were accepted?"

Noriko glanced at Izark. She knew that speculative tone, and she didn't particularly like it.

"Actually, a few of the more promising ones have been attacked in their homes," Gaya replied solemnly.

Daisuke––Oji-san to Akane––murmured, "[Bell the cat...]" Then, as clearly and precisely he could, he said, "Sound–– _sounds––_ like they need bell cat."

Gray Birds, citizens of Zago and Guzena, and Akane looked at Noriko as the Japanese adults chuckled; they were accustomed to the storyteller's tendency of quoting obscure tales.

"Otou-san is referring to a very old European fable," giggled Noriko, " 'Belling the Cat' tells about how a group of mice once made a plan to tie a bell around the neck of a clever cat so they could always know when she was coming." Her smile faded as she explained, "The lesson of this story is that it is easier to make plans than to follow through with them." Akane could see that she was still watching Izark from the corner of her eye.

The black-haired warrior stood. "Jeida, may I borrow Alef for the day?"

Akane saw her girl-cousin wince.

Duke Jeida was nodding. "I take it you are going to see Jul?"

Izark didn't answer, looking at Alef instead. "Do you think this Jul will recognize you?"

Alef rose from his seat, grinning. "I haven't changed much in ten years."

"Good." Izark looked at Wei, who was at last dividing his attention between his companions and his plate. "Be ready to go in case we can use you. We'll need your stealth." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the room, Alef sauntering after.

IV IV IV IV IV

Catching up with Izark on the stairs, Alef half joked, "You could explain what I'm supposed to do, and why."

Izark smirked. "Two can play the game those gangs have set up," he said. "I'll explain as we go. Now help me get ready."

The plan would take a day, if not two, to set in motion. Sorting through his belongings, Izark ignored the little voice in his head that accused him emphatically of procrastination; of avoiding Noriko's parents and a certain topic which he knew must inevitably be discussed. _No_ , he thought firmly. He knew better than anyone how easily an unsettled atmosphere in Guzena could affect the rest of the world. Besides, with what could he possibly recommend himself that would compensate for the dangers that still lay at every turn? He could not go with them if they took her back. How could he convince them to let Noriko stay with him––assuming that she consented––if he did not do everything he could for her security now?

IV IV IV IV IV

Back in the dining room, Akane heard a sigh escape Noriko. It was a very troubling sound coming from her normally cheerful cousin.

_Izark, be careful._

_I will, Noriko._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Yes––I know it is a little difficult to follow with everyone in one place. Please, just bear with me. It will get less complicated––Hopefully. Thank you for reading! Please review!
> 
> ~Lanta

**Author's Note:**

> Noriko: Um, huh? How'd we suddenly get here? What happened in the last—three years? Izark, it's been three years, hasn't it?
> 
> Izark: More or less. It took us a few months over a year to make it back to the Sea of Trees, and then we spent another year on the Western Continent before leaving to help Clairgeeta. If this is the end of year 5, then we're missing most of year 3 and all of 4 and 5. So, what are we doing here? And why would I want to come back this god-forsaken speck on the map? Or rather, not on the map?
> 
> Muse: Be patient. Like I said, the format is different. A reviewer mentioned that the timeline was a little hard to follow, so I took out the introduction and added an en medias prologue. Just pay attention to the italics under the chapter titles, and you'll know when the chapter begins if the setting has changed significantly.
> 
> Izark: (skeptically) And you think that's less confusing––
> 
> Muse: You be quiet. Readers, please let me know what you think!


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